Adapt
by President Luthor
Summary: Weeks after Voyager's triumphant arrival on Earth, Starfleet's finest honour the heroic crew on the Academy grounds ... with unexpected results for Seven. The first of some short stories with crews of the Voyager and the Enterprise.
1. CH 1

"Adapt"  
  
RATING: PG-13  
  
SUMMARY: A few weeks after the triumphant arrival of the Starship Voyager, meetings between the crews of the Voyager and the Enterprise create unexpected results. This will be the first of a few short stories. This one features a meeting between Seven of Nine and Captain Picard.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Paramount is running the whole thing, as we know. This tale is for fun, and not based on any novels out there. This is my first ST:TNG-era tale.  
  
[San Francisco, Cochrane Plaza, Starfleet Academy - two weeks after Voyager's arrival on Earth]  
  
Seven felt awkward at these sorts of parties. This would be her fifth party ... or "soiree" as The Doctor tended to refer to them.  
  
The official festivities hadn't started yet. "Seven, enjoy yourself," Ensign Harry Kim had told her. "It's not everyday the Starfleet brass throws you a party in your honour!"  
  
In the distance, Ensign Kim and Lt. Torres were sharing a joke with ...  
  
Seven paused, then accessed her memory files:  
  
Accessing ... crew of the USS Enterprise, flagship of Starfleet ...  
  
Her eyes widened in recognition. They had shared a joke with Lt.- Cmdr. Geordi Laforge, the Enterprise's engineering chief. It was apparently very funny, because Lt.-Cmdr. Laforge was laughing hysterically.  
  
Someone tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
"Seven! Did you stop by the sushi bar?" The Doctor inquired. Before she could answer, he continued, and shoved a sushi roll in her face. "You really must have a taste. It's absolutely exquisite! Oh, forgive my manners." His arm was looped around another doctor's arm.  
  
Seven's eyes widened, as she recognized her friend's companion.  
  
"Dr. Beverly Crusher, medical officer of the USS Enterprise," Seven replied.  
  
"Seven!" Crusher beamed. "It's soo good to finally meet you. I've heard all about the Doctor's work with nanotechnology. We really should compare notes sometime."  
  
"I would appreciate that, very much," Seven stated clinically.  
  
"Is that the dean of interstellar microbiology?" The Doctor's eyes darted towards an elderly man in a Starfleet Academy lab coat. "Beverly, dear, we mustn't dally, the dean is expecting us."  
  
"We'll chat soon," Dr. Crusher nodded to Seven as The Doctor yanked her away.  
  
Seven found herself alone again. She nodded awkwardly to a multitude of faces in uniforms. They had all heard of her. She acknowledged them as a courtesy, but she honestly didn't know most of these people.  
  
"The cream of the crop," Lt. Paris had grumbled hours earlier, as he had piloted the Delta Flyer towards San Francisco. "You'll be meeting the elite of Starfleet. Decorated captains of the Dominion War, veterans of the recent Borg conflict. I'm only just wrapping my mind around that one! I even hear Captain Jean-Luc Picard will be at this party."  
  
"I bet I'll get an autograph from Picard way before you, Tom," Ensign Kim had remarked.  
  
Seven smiled to herself at that memory. The finest minds in all of Starfleet were coming to this party ... to meet the Voyager crew.  
  
She felt what could be classified as anticipation, even excitement. Seven stopped at the sushi bar and sampled a roll. Across the plaza, she noticed the distinctive full-length, red dress uniforms of Starfleet admirals. In the centre of that ring stood Admiral Paris, with his son, Lt. Tom Paris.  
  
Paris seemed uncomfortable, surrounded by this 'cream of the crop'. His father apparently made another joke at his son's expense. Paris spotted Seven and quietly mouthed "Help!"  
  
Seven immediately strolled towards the ring of admirals.  
  
"Lt. Paris, I have an urgent message from the captain," Seven declared.  
  
"Excuse me, gents," Paris smiled apologetically. "Duty calls."  
  
When they were out of earshot, Paris clasped Seven's shoulder in gratitude. "Thanks for the save, Seven. If I had to hear another ancient, cognac-swilling admiral brag about his youthful exploits against the Klingons, I was going to gag!"  
  
"Do you require medical attention?" Seven asked.  
  
"No, no," Paris grinned. "It's an expression. Trust me, half an hour with the brass is enough for me."  
  
"I gathered as much," Seven noted. "You seemed ... uncomfortable."  
  
Paris peered over the heads of the party-goers. "Is that Commander Riker? Excuse me, Seven, I may never get a chance to meet the infamous William T. Riker again!"  
  
Seven found it slightly amusing the many of the Voyager's crew held the Enterprise's crew in such esteem. It bordered on celebrity- obsession. Yes, the Enterprise took risks and accomplished much. But didn't the Voyager's crew, too?  
  
Captain Janeway had recently given her a synopsis of the Enterprise's bold confrontation with the Borg. They had saved Earth shortly before the Voyager disappeared in the Delta Quadrant.  
  
"You seem perplexed?" a voice murmured.  
  
Seven turned around. A man - or was he? - in a gold Starfleet uniform extended his hand. "Lt.-Cmdr. Data of the Enterprise. And you must be Seven. Or do you prefer Seven of Nine?"  
  
"Seven will suffice," Seven stated. She accessed her memory files. "You served with the Enterprise since the encounter at Farpoint."  
  
"You are correct," Data replied. "Are you enjoying the festivities?"  
  
Seven paused to consider her reply. "It seems overwhelming, at times. The crew of the Voyager simply did their duties in the Delta Quadrant."  
  
Data pondered the reply. "I believe the celebrations are being held to honour those duties. It is a credit to your crew that you survived seven years without the resources of the Federation or its allies."  
  
"I suppose," Seven replied. "I am glad Starfleet wishes to credit the crew. They are glad to be home at last."  
  
"There were those in Starfleet who were prepared to give up the search for the Voyager," Data added, "but there were many more who did not give up hope. The Voyager's return has vindicated their belief."  
  
A group of ensigns passed by, then glowered at Seven. One ensign, who apparently had too much synthehol, stumbled towards her.  
  
"What the hell's a Borg doing on the Academy grounds!" he demanded.  
  
"I am a member of the Voyager crew," Seven stated.  
  
"A Borg in Starfleet," the drunk ensign spat out the words, "that's like sending a Klingon to conduct peace negotiations."  
  
Data sensed that the situation might get out of hand. "At attention, ensigns." The group of ensigns seemed to ignore the order.  
  
Data grabbed the drunk ensign by the shoulders, raised him two feet above the ground and forcibly planted him down. "At attention, ensigns!" Data ordered. His tone implied that he expected the order to be followed. Now.  
  
The group of ensigns stood up straight. "Yes, Commander!" they uttered in unison.  
  
"Seven and the crew of the Voyager have clocked more experience in the Delta Quadrant than most of you have combined," Data lectured. "As long as you wear that uniform, you will demonstrate the courtesy expected of Starfleet officers. I have the authority to summon the Provost Marshal's officers. They will arrest you, detain you, and likely revoke your flight privileges. I suspect you do not want that to happen."  
  
"No, sir, we don't," the lead ensign mumbled sheepishly.  
  
"Return to Starfleet barracks now," Data began, "and I may choose to overlook your mis-step."  
  
"Yes, sir," they replied. Data stopped the drunk ensign. "Choose to dishonour that uniform again at your peril. If I so much as hear a rumour about another indiscretion, I will have your commission. Is that understood, Ensign?"  
  
"Yes, sir," the ensign stated. The once-rowdy group dispersed into the crowd.  
  
Seven was visibly disturbed at the confrontation. She was aware that the people of Earth might have difficulty adjusting to independent- minded Borg beings. The disgust in that ensign's eyes was shocking.  
  
"I feel I must apologize," Data said. "Their behaviour was inexcusable. If you would like, I can file a formal complaint with Starfleet Academy ..."  
  
"No," Seven stated. "The ensigns are young and naive. A formal complaint might jeopardize their careers."  
  
Data raised an eyebrow in surprise. This former Borg drone had learned much about tact and diplomacy. He changed the subject.  
  
"I find these parties uncomfortable, too," Data admitted.  
  
"Really?" Seven wondered. "So I am not the only one."  
  
"On the contrary," Data nodded towards his commanding officer, Captain Picard, dressed in full dress uniform. "Capt. Picard prefers the company of a few close friends. Note his mannerisms."  
  
Seven studied the legendary captain. Picard smiled politely as an admiral cracked an off-colour joke about Vulcan mating rituals.  
  
"It appears as if the captain would prefer the bridge of the Enterprise to this party," Seven observed.  
  
Data nodded in agreement. "I know few of the guests here, but one commonality I have noticed is that they enjoy talking about the weather. Endlessly."  
  
Picard caught Data's glance. And quietly mouthed "Help!"  
  
"I suggest you inform your captain of an 'urgent message' from the Admiralty," Seven quipped.  
  
Data's eyes darted rapidly. "Probability of success: 93.333% Good advice. If you will excuse me ..."  
  
Seven poured a goblet of punch, as Commander Riker approached.  
  
Riker took a double-glance at the female with the Borg implants and grinned. "Seven, is it? Captain Janeway has told me a lot about you."  
  
Seven shook his hand. "It is good to meet you too, Commander." An opportunity to practise social skills, she thought. "How do you find weather in California? Do you not find the Pacific Ocean's moderating effects quite pleasing this time of year? Or do you prefer the subzero temperatures of your native Alaska?"  
  
"Uhh ... good, yes and, actually I rather enjoy the cold, crisp air," Riker smirked. He sipped some punch. "Nice party, don't you think?"  
  
"I suppose," Seven remarked.  
  
"Although if you ask me," Riker grumbled, "I've had it with whiskey-breathed admirals bragging about long-ago Romulan skirmishes."  
  
"I gather that the Admiralty does not hold the degree of esteem it believes it deserves," Seven noted.  
  
"That's one way of putting it," Riker smirked as he took another sip of punch. "Officers like Capt. Picard and your Capt. Janeway have done so much to uphold the Federation's values. Sure, there's some bending of rules now and then, but if you ask me, they deserve far more credit then they've got so far. The powers-that-be are quick to remember failures and slow to recognize success."  
  
"What sort of credit do you think Capt. Janeway deserves for bringing Voyager back home?" Seven asked pointedly.  
  
"Yikes, you're putting me on the spot," Riker laughed. "But I'll bite. If I were a Starfleet admiral -- knowing that Janeway survived seven years in an undiscovered quadrant of space -- she'd be on the fast-track. Command of a neutral-zone fleet. The admiralty within a year ..."  
  
"An admiral?" Seven was pleasantly surprised at Riker's frank assessment.  
  
"But I'm just a commander," Riker stated. "You'll find that Starfleet Command has other ideas about promotion. Though Admiral Janeway has a nice ring to it." He spotted Commander Worf -- with furrowed brow -- pondering the hors d'oeuvres table.  
  
"Excuse me, Seven, I just saw an old friend of mine," Riker stated, and sprinted towards the Klingon.  
  
Seven frowned. Just when she was getting used to an interesting conversation, she was interrupted by the demands of this party. Friends meeting friends. Officers meeting former shipmates.  
  
Tuvok approached. "Seven, your presence is required. Stage left. The formal proceedings are about to begin."  
  
"Finally," Seven muttered under her breath.  
  
The next hour consisted of elaborate speeches about the "glorious return of our beloved Voyager".  
  
She glanced at Lt. Paris, who rolled his eyes and yawned -- before Capt. Janeway darted a disapproving glare at him.  
  
Another speech about the "expansion of the frontier" and the "marvels of Delta Quadrant scientific discoveries". The Doctor grinned, relishing every word of the speech.  
  
In the VIP section of the audience, the crew of the Enterprise listened politely. Capt. Picard squirmed in his lawn chair. Worf began to nod asleep, until Laforge elbowed him in the arm.  
  
Admiral Jellico, who had catapulted into the higher echelons of Starfleet Command, began to praise the Voyager crew's "courage, dedication and commitment to Federation values."  
  
The medals were distributed in their blue velvet cases, embossed with the seal of the Federation.  
  
Then, the crowd roared in applause. It seemed like the emotions were contained until that moment. The guests were on their feet. A standing ovation! Seven could only guess that Starfleet was indeed happy that their little ship had returned home.  
  
The dignitaries lined up to meet the Voyager crew. Pleasantries were exchanged. They shook Seven's hand, but said little to her.  
  
Seven caught part of Admiral Jellico's remarks to Janeway. "The Admiralty has their eye on you, Kathryn. They know you've got a royal flush. All you have to do is play your cards."  
  
Then, Capt. Picard climbed the stairs to the stage. Kim and Paris immediately jostled each other to meet the renowned captain of the Enterprise.  
  
"Lieutenant, Ensign," Tuvok remarked, "Please observe the protocol of the occasion."  
  
"It's quiet alright," Picard smiled. "Although I'm the one who should be asking all of you for autographs. What you accomplished is nothing short of remarkable."  
  
When Picard reached Janeway, he was ecstatic. It was his turn to drop protocol, as he gave her a warm hug.  
  
"Kathryn," Picard began, "this is your day. Enjoy every moment of it."  
  
Janeway beamed. "I intend to, Jean-Luc."  
  
Picard knew of Starfleet's on-again-off-again commitment to the search for Voyager. Conflicting priorites, some in Starfleet had complained. In whispers, sometimes in open council. The Dominion, the Cardassians, the Borg, the Romulans and Klingons -- they all demanded attention. He was disgusted by the politics, the pandering. For seven years he had watched as the Voyager's loss dropped off the list of Starfleet priorities. He could not reconcile the fact that Starfleet did not, in fact, marshal all their available resources to shorten Voyager's harrowing journey.  
  
Picard sighed, as he recalled seven years of petitions, debates and a handful of actions bordering on insubordination -- all to cajole and prod Starfleet into continuing the search. For one of their own.  
  
"I want you to know that, since your ship disappeared from the Badlands, we did not let Starfleet abandon you," Picard began. "I could never allow that to happen."  
  
Janeway muffled a sob as she hugged Picard. Only now did it dawn on her that she was truly at home. This was no holodeck illusion. "There were times," she sniffled, "that I actually believed they did forget us."  
  
Picard was about to speak, but checked himself. There would be time for political analysis later. Not now, not in this moment of glory for the crew of the USS Voyager.  
  
"Starfleet may claim credit for your return, the Federation may claim credit for your discoveries," Picard mumbled in her ear, "but never, ever let them claim the honour of your success. That belongs to your crew. And only your crew."  
  
Seven politely shook the hands of the dignitaries. She smiled as she met Crusher, Data and Riker again. She was eager to meet Picard at last.  
  
Picard shook the hand of The Doctor, exchanged a few words with him, then moved towards Seven.  
  
"Captain Picard, it is an honour to meet you," Seven announced, as she extended her hand.  
  
Picard saw the hand, with its implants. He froze. Torres and Paris shared a wide-eyed glance at the awkward moment. "Uh oh," Ensign Kim gasped.  
  
"This is Seven," Riker tried to introduce the captain. "She was part of the Voyager crew."  
  
Picard briefly nodded to Seven, then took his leave abruptly.  
  
"I think the Talaxian chili didn't sit well with him," Riker joked, but he was clearly surprised at Picard's impolite behaviour.  
  
The hushed murmurs began to annoy Seven. They were all talking about her! Dr. Crusher quickly chased after Picard, followed by Riker.  
  
Data quickly took Seven aside. "I'm sure he meant no disrespect."  
  
"I am aware of his role as Locutus of Borg," Seven grumbled.  
  
"The experience was -- is -- traumatic for him," Data offered, "It has been several years, however. I was certain he had sufficiently recovered."  
  
They noticed that Crusher was having a heated discussion with Picard. Riker seemed to be trying to diffuse the situation.  
  
"If he has recovered," Seven complained, "then why did he refuse the courtesy of a handshake! I would expect a Starfleet captain to be cordial. Apparently, that courtesy does not apply to me. Because I was a Borg." Seven stormed off the stage.  
  
"I'll check on her," Janeway remarked, as she chased after her crewmate.  
  
Laforge, Torres, Paris and Kim gathered around Data. "What just happened?" Kim inquired.  
  
"I'm afraid that Captain Picard," Data replied, "has hurt Seven's feelings. She was looking forward to meeting him."  
  
"And Picard just threw it back in her face," Laforge groaned. "Ouch."  
  
"I guess this doesn't bode well for my invite to the Enterprise," The Doctor whined.  
  
"Doc," Paris scolded, "now is one of those times you should keep your thoughts to yourself."  
  
"The Borg robbed him of his identity," Worf interrupted, "They stole his dignity. His honour! That is not easy to forget."  
  
"That was years ago," Paris protested. "He's had some time now to cope with it. He seemed fine to me."  
  
"Seven's not a Borg," Torres growled. "Not anymore!"  
  
"Once a Borg, always a Borg," Worf snapped back.  
  
"Alright, alright," Laforge tried to soothe the rival crews. "Whatever we may think, it's something only Seven and Picard can sort out. Let's give them some space."  
  
"I agree," Chakotay nodded. "I'm sure Cmdr. Riker and Capt. Janeway are doing their best to smooth things over. There's still the Federation Ball to look forward to."  
  
With a few grumbles, and a terrifying scowl between Worf and Torres, the crews of the Voyager and Enterprise left the empty stage.  
  
"Somehow, I don't feel so festive anymore," Kim mumbled. He imagined Seven was wandering around the vast campus of Starfleet Academy. Isolated once more because of her past as Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 001.  
  
Somewhere else, the celebrated captain of the Enterprise had allowed his personal demons to hurt a shipmate's feelings.  
  
It wasn't fair. 


	2. CH 2

The crews of the Enterprise and Voyager waited patiently in the foyer of the Academy Faculty Lounge. All eyes turned to the steel doors as they swished open and Cmdr. Riker strolled through.  
  
"Is the Captain alright?" Data inquired.  
  
Riker rubbed his face slowly. The past few minutes had been a emotional strain on his nerves. Picard had refused to even discuss what had just happened on that stage. Normally known for his reserved -- but cordial -- attitude, Picard's inexplicable snub of Seven caught everyone off guard.  
  
"He refused to stop by Starfleet Medical for a check-up," Riker grumbled. "After a few heated words with Dr. Crusher, he marched off to the Admiralty Hall."  
  
"Well, let's go after him, then!" Paris insisted. "Captain or not, he's got some explaining to do. Seven is a respected member of our crew and --"  
  
Riker cut him off. "The Admiralty Hall is restricted to captains or higher. I'm his executive officer and even I don't have the clearance to go in there. There's no sense stirring up the pot. He wants to be alone now. Let's leave at that, at least until Capt. Janeway returns."  
  
A paging bell rang through the corridors. Then the familiar computer voice announced: "Lt. Tom Paris, please report to Starfleet Command."  
  
Paris sighed impatiently. "That's just great! My great father, the Admiral, wants to see me." He took Kim aside. "Harry, you call me the moment Seven returns. We're gonna straigten this little snafu somehow."  
  
"Roger that, Tom," Kim nodded. Paris headed towards the exit, but not before exchanging a frustrated glare with Riker.  
  
Data and The Doctor approached Riker, who was pacing back and forth -- annoying an already exasperated Lt. Torres.  
  
"Commander," The Doctor interrupted. "Data and I have been theorizing that, perhaps, Capt. Picard might be experiencing a relapse of the panic attacks he likely had shortly after his rescue from the Borg."  
  
"You think?" Riker barked sarcastically. He paused, then regained his composure. "I'm sorry, Doctor. It's just that I hadn't seen Picard act this way for some time. He's had time to work out those issues involving his capture and his role in the Borg attack at Wolf 359. I had hoped that those emotional wounds have healed."  
  
"His experience might be described as shell-shock in earlier centuries," Data suggested. "His own identity was suppressed in favour of the Borg collective's identity."  
  
The Doctor considered Data's reply. "Even after his rescue, I suppose it took weeks, if not months, for the captain to become accustomed to being in his own skin again. Not to mention bearing the guilt of Wolf 359."  
  
"That," Worf stood up. "was not Capt. Picard's fault. He was made a tool of the Borg. A weapon. It was against his will! The guilt lies with the Borg."  
  
"Fine, so he has some form of post-traumatic stress," Kim blurted out. "Does that give him the right to embarrass Seven in public?"  
  
"You have an Earth to return to, Ensign," Worf growled, "because our captain made such a great sacrifice!"  
  
He crossed his large arms indignantly and glared at the Voyager crew. "You were not there. None of you were! You are in no position to pass judgment on Capt. Picard."  
  
"Why you smug, self-righteous, son-of-a-," Torres began.  
  
"Easy there, B'Elanna," Laforge pleaded, as he stood between the two Klingons. "Worf, I think it would be best to keep a level-head. Throwing around accusations and insults isn't going to make either Seven or the captain feel any better!"  
  
"Mr. Worf," Riker summoned his friend. "Dr. Crusher plans to return to the Enterprise to review her case files on Picard's capture. I'd like you to accompany her."  
  
"But Commander -", Worf protested, but Riker's intense eyes seemed to suggest it would be best not to continue the argument.  
  
"Yes, sir." Worf straigtened his uniform and quickly marched to the exit.  
  
"Worf just needs some time to cool off," Riker explained. "He just gets sensitive whenever he thinks Picard's honour is challenged."  
  
"So we're just supposed to walk on eggshells when we're around Picard?" Kim wondered.  
  
"No, Ensign," Chakotay replied, "It means we show the level of understanding and compassion expected of Starfleet officers. Which we all are." As the two crews sat uncomfortably in the foyer, Chakotay took Riker aside.  
  
"Worf's quite a piece of work," he remarked to Riker.  
  
"Tell me about it," Riker sighed. "Emotions are running high. The Voyager crew cares deeply about Seven. I understand that. By the same token, my crew has seen our captain climb out of his personal hell: to be a prisoner of his own mind. Their dedication to their captain is just as passionnate."  
  
"I think it would be good for them to be distracted," Chakotay suggested.  
  
"Agreed," Riker replied.  
  
Chakotay walked over to his surly crewmates. "Voyager's being refitted at Starfleet's Oakland dockyards. Cmdr. Laforge, I'd like your opinion of the warp core modifications."  
  
"Certainly," Laforge answered. As the two crews began to leave, Chakotay pulled Kim aside.  
  
"I realize you feel very strongly about the whole situation," Chakotay whispered, "but I'm asking to show a degree of respect. I know Worf's a little headstrong -"  
  
"A little?" Kim glowered.  
  
"He was right about one thing," Chakotay continued, "We weren't there. The captain and the Enterprise crew were confronted with something Starfleet had never dealt with before. At one point, Riker was given a field captaincy because Starfleet had assumed that Picard was lost for good. Just show a little patience, will you?"  
  
Kim took a deep breath. "Understood, sir. Don't get me wrong, I like the Enterprise crew just fine. But it's just that being on the fleet's flagship seems to come with a certain ... ego, if you catch my drift."  
  
"I hear you, Harry," Chakotay snickered. "Let's show them just how tough our little ship is." He stopped in front of Riker. "You're coming, Commander?"  
  
"I'll wait here for Capt. Janeway," Riker replied. "For what it's worth, I am glad the Voyager's home at last. I never gave up hope. None of us did."  
  
"That means a lot," Chakotay smiled. When the crews left, Riker settled on the foyer couch. He let out a breath. Picard, Riker thought to himself, we can't lose you. Not now, with Starfleet on the verge of tearing itself apart with petty intrigues and political impotence.  
  
On the other side of the Academy campus, Janeway quickly strolled along the tree-lined pathways. She barely had time to return the salutes of the nervous, wide-eyed cadets darting to their engineering or stellar cartography classes.  
  
At the end of the path, she saw the citadel-like, granite Starfleet Security complex. The training ground of those officers who would learn how to defend the Federation with the sword, if the pen of diplomacy did not work.  
  
To the right of the entrance, she spotted a small, pedestrian garden. Bright lilies and carnations lined the cobblestone paths. Cadets briskly walked back and forth.  
  
None noticed the former Borg drone, Seven, knelt before a simple black marble monument. She was tracing the names engraved so carefully on the marble.  
  
Janeway gasped. She remembered the day that stone was interred. Then, it was one year to the day of the Battle of Wolf 359. Cmdr. Riker and Worf broke the earth during the ceremony to commemorate the fallen. The monument was supposed to give some sense of closure to those who had survived. The words of comfort from the Admiralty were anything but.  
  
My god, she recalled, Wolf 359.  
  
"So many dead ... lost," Janeway had dabbed the tears in her eye with a handkerchief.  
  
A junior medical officer, an ensign, had collapsed during the ceremony and sobbed uncontrollably. Her fiance was killed aboard the USS Melbourne the year before.  
  
"Such a tragedy," a tall black officer had mumbled beside her. "Parents torn from children. Wives from husbands ..."  
  
"Commander Benjamin Sisko, is it?" Janeway had recalled. "I'm sorry about the Saratoga. There were good people there."  
  
"Instead of placating us with speeches," Sisko had continued, seemingly oblivious to Janeway, "the Admiralty should give us the resources to take the fight to the Borg. Not six months later, but now."  
  
"Maybe we should understand the Borg more before we launch an offensive," Janeway had offered. She was willing to let Sisko vent his anger -- if it helped him to deal with the tragedy.  
  
"You don't need to understand monsters," Sisko had muttered. "Give me a dozen ships, and I will pay those vermin back a thousand-fold! I will make them pay ..." His lip quivered as he struggled to contain his grief.  
  
Janeway remembered that she had patted the commander on the shoulder. What else could she do? Emotions were still raw then, one year after the tragic attack. Starfleet's men and women didn't want to understand. They wanted revenge.  
  
The chime signalling the end of afternoon classes had rung, waking Janeway from her reflections. She gingerly stepped between the sprouting flowers and knelt beside Seven.  
  
"Seven?" Janeway whispered.  
  
Seven did not respond. She continued to trace each etched name on the marble monument. It read:  
  
'TO OUR HONOURED DEAD - WE SHALL NEVER FORGET YOUR SACRIFICE FOR THE FEDERATION. Dedicated on 2366 to our glorious fallen at the Battle of Wolf 359. May you live forever among the stars.'  
  
"I did this," Seven mumbled, as he placed her hand on the marble. "I served with drones who answered the call of Locutus of Borg. They had proceeded to Earth. To take its technological distinctiveness and add it to our own. Human lives played no part in the calculations. Drones were told to destroy. Resistance was futile."  
  
"It was not your choice," Janeway insisted. "You were part of the collective. You had no identity. No will."  
  
"Perhaps," Seven muttered. "But my original identity died the day I became a drone. When the Enterprise rescued Picard, his identity did not die. Yet ... he would not be the same man he was before Locutus. His self-esteem was stripped from him. Discarded like damaged Borg components. A part of him died that day. I did that to him, too!"  
  
"No, Seven!" Janeway declared. "You are taking responsibility for the actions of the entire collective. No one -- not you, not Jean-Luc Picard -- should have to shoulder such a burden. It was the Borg that killed our friends at Wolf 359."  
  
"I am Borg," Seven replied. "I was confronted by a drunken ensign during today's celebrations. I remember his gaze. It was cold. Unfeeling. I have a Starfleet insignia, yet he looked upon me like an enemy. Worse. Like I was not a being worthy of respect."  
  
"He was drunk and a fool," Janeway argued. "You'll find the vast majority of Starfleet's officers will be more understanding. It's going to take time."  
  
"Many lost friends ... loved ones ... at Wolf 359," Seven stood up, still studying the monument. "For them, time has stopped. Nothing I say or do can replace the loss they have suffered." She began to walk away from the monument. "I will always be an enemy to them."  
  
"Seven, I don't pretend to understand what Picard is going through," Janeway held Seven's hand gently, "No one really can. I'm sure he feels badly about snubbing you. When he gets to his senses, I'm sure he'll want to apologize ..."  
  
"Everyone is worried about how Capt. Picard is feeling," Seven complained, "but it was he who chose to ignore my gesture of friendship. He was the one who barely acknowledged that I was there. That I mattered."  
  
Seven stopped as a few cadets had begun to notice her. The whispers began again. "Is she really Borg?" "Why is she even here?" "Is she safe?"  
  
"Move along, cadets!" Janeway ordered. "Get to your classes."  
  
"Picard's actions might be explained by his encounters with the Borg," Janeway continued, "but they do not excuse them, in my book. I'll have a chat with stubborn ol' Jean-Luc and --"  
  
"No. Please, no," Seven momentarily returned to her clinical objectivity. "You might offend Picard. He commands the flagship of Starfleet and has many friends in the Federation. You may risk command of a neutral-zone fleet, or even a promotion to the Admiralty!"  
  
Janeway laughed. "What?! Don't tell me you're following all the rumours that have been swirling about me since the day I arrived in San Francisco. I've heard them all, believe me. But enough about me, the so-called 'rising star' of Starfleet Command. Picard slighted you, so let's fix it."  
  
"No!" Seven stated emphatically. "He doesn't want to meet me. I will always be a mindless drone to him. Besides, he is captain of the Enterprise -- with an enviable reputation. His sense of pride will not allow him to give ground to a Borg."  
  
"Maybe," Janeway countered, "but I think this is one opportunity where you can show the illustrious Capt. Picard just how human you truly are."  
  
A slight smile appeared from the corner of Seven's mouth.  
  
"Jean-Luc likes to stroll along the boardwalk near the Marine Sciences complex," Janeway advised. "He's a sailor at heart. If you wait there, he'll eventually show up. Or I'll drag him there."  
  
"How should I talk to him?" Seven began to panic. "What if he ignores me again?"  
  
"Think of it as a chance to practise your social skills," Janeway grinned. "I've got to get back to the faculty lounge. Poor Cmdr. Riker's probably pacing the varnish off the foyer's floor by now!" She began to leave, but hesitated. "Oh, and you better do this right. My promotion to admiral is riding on it."  
  
Seven seemed puzzled. Maybe she was joking. Why should the captain risk her career to help out a shipmate who used to be a Borg, a feared enemy of the Federation? Human humour was often difficult to fathom.  
  
It was too late to back out, since Janeway was already halfway across the campus. So Seven walked towards the boardwalk, ignoring the curious stares of the cadets. The sun was blazing in the sky. Seagulls cawed as submersible training ships zipped along the bay. Overhead, a shuttle zoomed towards Starfleet Command.  
  
She spotted Kim and Paris jogging towards her.  
  
"Just a head's up, Seven," Paris said, "Picard's on his way. I don't know how you did it, but he's coming out here. To talk to you!"  
  
Seven seemed confused by the news. Before she could reply, her comlink beeped.  
  
"Seven, this is Chakotay," the Voyager's commander announced. "Have you seen Tom or Harry on campus."  
  
Kim folded his hands, pleading with her to say nothing, while Paris tactfully hushed: "Shh!"  
  
"I have only seen Capt. Janeway," Seven stated, as Kim grinned a 'thank-you' to her.  
  
"We were going over the schematics of the new warp core," Chakotay replied, "but those two seemed to have taken a wrong turn in Oakland. Keep me informed if you see them."  
  
"Understood," Seven answered. She glanced disapprovingly at her shipmates.  
  
"There's a holo-multiplex in Old San Francisco," Kim explained. "Tom and I are gonna check it out. It's supposed to be really cool!"  
  
"And you find that more interesting that upgrading the Voyager's warp core?" Seven inquired.  
  
"Wouldn't you?" Paris replied. "Don't worry. Chakotay and B'Elanna are better informed about all that warp stuff." Seven's reaction seemed to suggest that she found holodecks boring.  
  
"Anyway, we gotta go," Kim hurriedly added. "Seven? We were never here." They disappeared with the cadets and civilians waiting at the hover-stop to the city.  
  
Seven continued to walk along the boardwalk, then halted.  
  
There, on the shores of the bay, was Captain Jean-Luc Picard. No longer the legendary, invulnerable champion of the Federation that Seven had long envisioned, Picard seemed -- well -- human.  
  
He had removed his boots, and shook his feet in the tide. He had taken off his captain's jacket, revealing the short-sleeved tunic.  
  
The captain of the Enterprise was skipping stones into the ocean.  
  
It was Picard who began to speak. "Ummm, hello there."  
  
"Hi," Seven's response was barely audible.  
  
"I had thought that I could be left alone in the haven of the Admiralty," Picard stated, "I had hoped my rank would hide me there forever, but your captain, Janeway, is quite a resourceful woman. You know, I refused to discuss anything with her. She called me stubborn, then told me to take a walk. So I did. She never told me that you would be here."  
  
"If my presence makes you uncomfortable, I can leave," Seven advised.  
  
Picard skipped another stone into the ocean. "No, please, sit." He settled onto a large stone. Seven warily sat a few feet away.  
  
"But you are right, Seven, you do make me feel uncomfortable," Picard admitted.  
  
"I visited the Momument of the Fallen on campus," Seven revealed, "I understand why you would feel ... unnerved ... around a former drone."  
  
Picard stared at the horizon. He had always sought the unknown, never afraid of what he might find. The Borg, in one act of violation, had shaken that confidence. Seeing those implants, the clinical response of this reclaimed human soul ... it reminded him of the damage to his own soul, if only for a moment.  
  
"Seven, are you familiar with the ancient theologies of Earth?" Picard inquired.  
  
"The Doctor has been kind enough to provide my databases with Earth's varied histories," she replied, "including religion."  
  
"Western theologies tell us of sins of omission," Picard began. "Now, we all know about sins as acts, or wrongs, that we commit. We know that they are wrong because it offends some value that we, as a people, hold dear. Sins of omission are harder to grasp, because they are wrongs that we commit -- because we did not act."  
  
Seven tried to graps the meaning of his words. "It is difficult to know what is wrong if you did not take an action."  
  
"Yes," Picard said, "I feel I have committed a sin of omission against you, Seven. At the pinnacle of the Voyager's greatest success -- and in front of the elite of Starfleet -- I rejected your gesture of friendship. I did not accord you the respect and dignity that you deserve as a sentient being. I've grappled with these issues before with Data. I'm certain Janeway wrestled with them as she accepted The Doctor and you as individuals. I did not act when I should have, and ruined what should have been your special day."  
  
"You are right," Seven began, "You did hurt my feelings. You are the captain of the Enterprise. You are said to embody all that makes the Federation special. When you refused my handshake, I was offended. To be honest, I expected more of you."  
  
Picard paused. "I deserved that." He looked directly into Seven's eyes. "And I am truly sorry. You are a member of the Voyager's crew, and deserving of the respect and honours that go with that privileged position. At the formal dinner I will be hosting for your shipmates, I will apologize to them to."  
  
Seven felt relieved. She was impressed with Picard's humility. "I appreciate your candour." She remembered the simple monument on campus. "Capt. Janeway tells me no one can truly understand what it was like for you. As Locutus."  
  
Picard studied his hand, wriggling its fingers. "She is correct. No one can. Those names you saw on the monument? Their deaths are on my head, my sin. No matter what Counselor Troi may say." Later that day, he planned to take an extended leave. Riker deserved to take the bridge for awhile. As for Picard, he would return to France for a holiday. His own healing, it seemed, had to continue.  
  
"I want to make it up to you, in some way," Picard said. "How would you like a guided tour of the Enterprise? I hear the captain is quite an entertaining guide. This way, you'll already know about the ship when your friends take the tour later. Mind you, Cmdr. Laforge's tour doesn't have the level of clearance that I do."  
  
"I would be honoured, Captain," Seven replied.  
  
"No, the honour is mine," Picard replied. He tapped his comlink.  
  
"Enterprise, this is Capt. Picard. Two to beam up. I have an honoured guest. Make sure she is accorded the due protocol of a Starfleet officer. She is a distinguished member of the USS Voyager ... and is home at last."  
  
Seven smiled. Earth, finally, seemed like a place that she could call home.  
  
THE END  
  
COMING SOON: Another tale, set in the weeks following the Voyager's arrival on Earth. Starfleet's gruelling Maquis Inquiry threatens to strip Chakotay and B'Elanna's field commissions. Will a member of the Enterprise crew defend them as loyal Starfleet officers ... or condemn them as traitors? 


End file.
